The Stitching Hour

PRAISE FOR AMANDA LEE'S EMBROIDERY MYSTERIES

Wicked Stitch

“Lee captivates with well-drawn characters, more than one mystery, and plenty of eclectic knitting, embroidering, and other arts. Readers who want a cozy with some flair will find this one right up their alley.”

—Debbie's Book Bag

“A wonderfully written cozy with well-developed characters, a perfect setting, and the right combination of all the things that make a perfect cozy. . . . Amanda Lee just keeps getting better and better.”

—Open Book Society

“With romance, food, pop culture, and a dog, the dusting of humor makes it perfect.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Whether you're a newcomer to the series . . . or have been reading from the start, you'll enjoy this outing.”

—CA Reviews

Thread End

“This great cozy has a lively cast. . . . The pace is fast and the puns are amusing.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(4½ stars, top pick)

“Amanda Lee weaves an excellent cozy mystery that will keep the reader hooked from beginning to end.”

—
Affaire de Coeur

“A very fun mystery, with great characters and a delightful story line. . . . I loved it.”

—Open Book Society

“Lee has mastered the art of crafting very likable characters who are eccentric, lovable, and definitely people readers will enjoy.”

—Kings River Life Magazine

Cross-Stitch Before Dying

“There's never a dull moment . . . touches of humor, and a hint of sensual romance.”

—Once Upon a Romance

“Marcy's character is full of humor and intelligence, and she shines in this cozy.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Well paced and a real page-turner . . . a great cozy mystery.”

—MyShelf.com

Thread on Arrival

“Lee is clearly a story wizard.”

—Blogcritics

“A great series with enough suspense and smart sleuthing to hook readers every time.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“A fun, fast-paced mystery that will be hard to put down.”

—The Mystery Reader

“Entertaining. . . . Readers will enjoy spending time with the friendly folks of Tallulah Falls as well as Marcy's adorable Irish wolfhound.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Fun, full of suspense, and . . . a satisfying conclusion—readers can hardly ask for more!”

—Fresh Fiction

The Long Stitch Good Night

“Lee's fourth Embroidery Mystery is well planned and executed. . . . Marcy's keen sleuthing and tenacious personality allow her to solve this solid mystery with smart thinking and style.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Smart and interesting, well patterned and deftly sewn together.”

—Once Upon a Romance

Thread Reckoning

“Lee's latest Embroidery Mystery will hook readers with its charming setting and appealing characters. Plenty of spunk and attitude follow Marcy as she solves this well-crafted mystery in a close-knit town full of colorful characters.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“A fun mystery with compelling characters.”

—Fresh Fiction

Stitch Me Deadly

“The writing is lively, and the pop culture references abundant . . . a smartly written cozy that neatly ties up all the loose ends surrounding the murder but leaves the reader wanting to know more about the amateur detective, her friends, her life, and her future.”

—Fresh Fiction

“A well thought-out, free-flowing story that captures your attention and keeps you interested from beginning to end. The comfort of being in a craft store seeps through the pages as Marcy shows her sleuthing side to figure out the town's newest murders.”

—The Romance Readers Connection

“There are plenty of threads for readers to pick up, and those who pick up the right thread will have the mystery sewn up in short order.”

—The Mystery Reader

The Quick and the Thread

“Lee kicks off a cozy, promising mystery series . . . a fast, pleasant read with prose full of pop culture references and, of course, sharp needlework puns.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Lee gives her Embroidery Mystery series a rousing start with a fast-paced, intriguing who-done-it that will delight fans of the cozy mystery genre.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Stands out with its likable characters and polished plot.”

—The Mystery Reader

“If her debut here is any indication, Lee's new series is going to be fun, spunky, and educational. . . . Marcy Singer is young, fun, sharp, and likable. Readers will be looking forward to her future adventures.”

—
RT Book Reviews

Also by Amanda Lee

Wicked Stitch

Thread End

Cross-Stitch Before Dying

Thread on Arrival

The Long Stitch Good Night

Thread Reckoning

Stitch Me Deadly

The Quick and the Thread

OBSIDIAN

Published by New American Library,

an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

This book is an original publication of New American Library.

First Printing, November 2015

Copyright © Penguin Random House LLC, 2015

Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

Obsidian and the Obsidian colophon are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

For more information about Penguin Random House, visit penguin.com.

ISBN 978-0-698-18651-4

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To Tim, Lianna, and Nicholas

I
reached down and patted the head of my Irish wolfhound, Angus. At only two years old, he still had a lot of puppy in him, but he was mannerly and well behaved. The patrons of my embroidery shop, the Seven-Year Stitch, loved him.

“Can you believe we've been here in Tallulah Falls for almost a year?” I asked him. I jerked my head in the direction of Jill, the mannequin-slash-Marilyn-Monroe-lookalike that stood by the cash register. “Jill says she can't.” I looked at her, as if she'd actually said something. “What's that, Jill? What you can't believe is how I haven't dressed you in a beautiful new dress befitting the occasion?” I blew out a breath. “All in good time, Jill. All in good time.”

Okay, so maybe having a mom who was a Hollywood costume designer led me to do more than my fair share of play-pretend as a child, and maybe . . . just
maybe
 . . . that trait had followed me over into adulthood. But I got lonely when I was the only person in the store. And when the only “people” around to talk with were Angus and Jill, I made do. Besides, I was pretty sure that Angus not only understood every word I said but that he communicated with me too. He had such expressive eyes. And that smile! With Jill, you just had to make it all up as you went and hope she wasn't one of those cursed paranormal items that would come to life and try to kill you one day.

So on
that
creepy thought, I gazed around the store and firmly directed my thoughts back to my upcoming anniversary open house. Since it was October 1, Jill was wearing a witch costume. She wasn't scary—she was more of a Samantha from
Bewitched
type. Before the open house, I planned to change her into either a white or pink dress—more Marilyn than Sam.

Everything else in the store would probably be all right
as is
, other than tidying up and borrowing a few folding chairs from the library. Since I was good friends with the librarian, Rajani “Reggie” Singh, I didn't think that would be a problem. Under normal circumstances, I had plenty of seating in my sit-and-stitch square—two navy sofas that faced each other across an oval maple coffee table, a red club chair at either end of the table, and ottomans matching the chairs. I wondered briefly if I should shampoo the red-and-blue braided rug that lay beneath the table, but I decided a thorough vacuuming would be fine.

I turned to the merchandise part of the store, where I'd been marking down prices and placing specials on the shelf nearest the door. I looked over the embroidery projects that lined the walls with a critical eye. Should I add more? Take a few down? There was the redwork swan . . . the Celtic cross . . . the sampler I'd made from Louisa Ralston's original . . . the bunny done in crewelwork . . . the Bollywood-inspired elephant . . . the pirate map tapestry . . . the cross-stitched bride. . . . With a slight smile, I decided to leave them all. I didn't think it was necessary to add another one . . . yet . . . but there weren't any I wanted to take down.

I went over to the sit-and-stitch square, moved aside one of the candlewick pillows, and plopped down on the navy sofa facing the storefront window. I'd come a long way in the past year, professionally and personally. Just before I moved here, I'd adopted Angus, and we were living in an apartment in San Francisco where I worked in an accounting office. Then Sadie MacKenzie had called and urged me to come to Tallulah Falls and open my own embroidery shop. Sadie had been my best friend and roommate in college. She and her husband, Blake, had a coffee shop called MacKenzies' Mochas right down the street from the Stitch. She hadn't had to twist my arm; and despite my ups and downs in Tallulah Falls, I was happier here than I'd ever been.

I'd barely sat down when Vera Langhorne came through the door.

“Good morning, Marcy,” she said.

“Hi,” I said as Angus trotted over to greet Vera.

She scratched his head and cooed to him for a minute before joining me on the sofa. Vera had also come a long way in the year that I'd known her. She was no longer the mousy brunette in baggy clothes that I'd met when I'd first arrived in Tallulah Falls. Now she wore her hair blond with subtle highlights, and she always dressed with style and class. Today she wore gray slacks, black pumps, and a royal blue short-sleeved sweater twinset.

“You'll never believe what's coming in next door to you,” she said.

“Please tell me that whatever it is won't be operated by a relative of Nellie Davis,” I said with a groan.

Nellie Davis owned the aromatherapy shop down the street, and she and I had never been friends. Heck, we'd hardly been civil. I'd tried over the past year to warm up our relationship, but Nellie was convinced that all the mishaps that had befallen Tallulah Falls had coincided with my arrival and that either I or my shop—or both—was cursed. She'd been so antagonistic toward me that she'd recently talked her sister, Clara, into renting the space next to the Seven-Year Stitch—a knitting shop, no less, where she'd also planned to sell embroidery supplies! Unfortunately, Clara had met with a bad end, and the shop was once again for lease. Well, not anymore, it seemed.

“It's gonna be a haunted house!” Vera clapped her hands in excitement. “Won't that be fun? They're only here for the month of October, but from what they told Paul, they plan to do it up right.”

Vera was dating Paul Samms, a reporter for the
Tallulah Falls Examiner
.

“They're going to take the first few days of the month to decorate and move in all their creepy crawly stuff, and the actual haunted house is going to open the following weekend,” she continued.

I frowned. “Are they only going to be open during the weekends? If so, how will they make enough to justify renting the building?”

“According to Paul, after that opening weekend, they're going to be open every night,” said Vera. “So they believe—and so do I—that they'll make their rent back many times over. They'll have special events throughout the month to draw repeat business, like themed costume contests, local celebrities—news anchors and people like that . . . Paul might even be one.
And
they're having concessions!”

“They're having concessions at a haunted house? That seems a little odd.”

“I'm surprised Sadie hasn't mentioned it to you. She and Blake are in charge of the food.”

“Neither of them has said a word to me,” I said. “How will that work? I can't imagine where they'll find the time to run a concession stand on top of operating a busy coffee shop.”

“Paul says they're going to do fairly simple stuff—caramel apples, popcorn and kettle corn, cookies, some hot chocolate and a couple of other beverages maybe—and the patrons have to eat outside of the actual haunted house,” said Vera. “The haunted house operators don't want to wind up with a colossal mess. And one of the MacKenzies' Mochas waitresses will work the haunted house each night. So it really shouldn't interfere with Sadie and Blake's schedules all that much.”

“Cool.”

“You don't look like you really feel that it's all that cool,” Vera said. “What's wrong?”

“I'm just concerned about how it will affect my evening classes,” I told her. “Some of my students are a little older—like Muriel—and I wouldn't want her to be frightened or put off if she hears a ton of screaming going on next door.”

Vera laughed. “Sweetie, you know Muriel can't hear herself think. And I don't know that it'll be
that
disruptive. Maybe you could put on some music or something.”

Oh, sure,
I thought.
That would be great—blaring music to drown out the screaming teenagers next door
.

“Besides, you might enjoy going to the haunted house with Ted.” Vera winked.

“I'm not saying it won't be fun,” I said. “I guess I'm just being selfish. How will this affect me . . . Angus . . . my students . . . my open house?”

“That's right! Your anniversary's coming up!” Vera clasped her hands together. “What are we doing for that?”

“I thought I'd have special sales and markdowns for the two weeks leading up to the open house. And I want to have gift bags for open house attendees.” I leaned forward. “But I'm struggling with what to put into the bags. Any suggestions?”

Vera looked up at the ceiling. “Well . . . you could put something different into every bag . . . like a coupon. Each coupon would be for a different amount off a particular item or the customer's entire purchase. And you could have
one
coupon for a free item within a particular price range.”

“That's a fantastic idea,” I said.

She smiled at me. “Don't sound so surprised, darling.”

“I'm not surprised.” I laughed. “Honest. I've simply been pondering over what I can give out that will appeal to everyone and not break the bank. The coupons are a wonderful idea.”

“Sure,” she said. “And you can put candies . . . teeny little sewing kits . . . maybe those braided friendship bracelets the kids like. . . .”

“You have a ton of fantastic ideas, Vera Langhorne! You should be an event planner.”

Vera laughed. “I'll take that under advisement.”

Just then, Reggie hurried into the shop. Although she was beautifully dressed in an Indian-style coral tunic with matching slacks, Reggie's normally elegantly coifed short gray hair looked as if she'd barely taken time to brush it this morning.

“Have you heard?” she asked us. “Somebody's doing a haunted house next to your shop, Marcy!”

“That's what Vera was telling me,” I said, my smile fading. “I'm getting the feeling you're not in favor of haunted houses?”

She dropped onto the sofa across from Vera and me. Angus came and placed his head on the arm of the sofa closest to Reggie. She patted his head absently.

“I'm in favor of the
library's
haunted house,” she said. “It's one of our biggest annual fund-raisers. And now this fancy group is going to come in and ruin it for us.”

“No, they won't,” Vera said. “Their haunted house isn't geared for small children. It's more for teens and adults. Paul interviewed the event organizers, and they told him all about it. Your haunted house is supposed to be funny and sweet. Theirs is supposed to be scary as heck!”

“You truly don't think their haunted house will have an impact on our fund-raiser?” Reggie asked.

“I know it won't,” Vera said. “In fact, I'll insist that Paul give the library equal time. I'll see when he can drop in at the library and do a story on
your
haunted house. I'll make sure he emphasizes the importance of the fund-raiser on the library's annual budget. How does that sound?”

“That sounds terrific, Vera. Thank you.” Reggie smoothed her hair. “I'm sorry that I allowed the news of the new haunted house to upset me so badly. It isn't like me at all.” She turned to me. “How do
you
feel about having a fun house right next door, Marcy?”

“I'm not terribly happy about it,” I said. “I'm afraid it'll drive Angus and my students crazy.”

“She was particularly concerned about the effect all the screaming might have on poor Muriel,” Vera said. “I told her Muriel probably wouldn't even notice, no better than she can hear.”

“True, but I see Marcy's point,” said Reggie. “At least, they won't be disturbing your business during daylight hours.”

“That's true,” I said. “And it's only for a month. What real harm can it do?”

When would I ever learn to stop asking that question?

•   •   •

My sweetheart, Ted, came for lunch. Ted was the head detective for the Tallulah Falls Police Department. He worked for Reggie's husband, Manu, who was the Chief of Police.

Broad, strong, and well over a foot taller than me, Ted was a walking dream. He had black hair with a few flecks of premature gray and the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. He wore suits for work, and he favored gray and navy. Today he wore light gray with a royal blue shirt and a blue, gray, and lavender striped tie. He looked yummy.

On top of looking so mouth-watering, he brought my favorite lunch—chicken salad croissants from MacKenzies' Mochas. I had bottled water in the minifridge in my office. I didn't have a customer in the shop when Ted arrived, so I put the cardboard clock on the door, indicating that I'd be back in half an hour so we could go into the office and eat undisturbed.

After we kissed hello, I got us each a bottle of water, and we sat at my desk to eat.

“How's your day going?” I asked, as I opened the box containing my croissant.

“Fine. I'm guessing you've heard the news about the Horror Emporium that's moving in next door to you.”

“Is that what they're calling it?” I frowned. “That seems like a mouthful . . . especially for kids.”

“Well, from what I hear, the Horror Emporium isn't designed for children. It's more for adults,” said Ted. “I've even heard that they plan to make visitors sign waivers before they buy their tickets, saying that if they're harmed in any way, suffer a heart attack or seizure, that the Horror Emporium will not be held responsible.”

“Good grief! What're they planning on doing in there?”

He shrugged. “I'd say the waiver is more for publicity than anything. All the tough kids will want to come to prove they can't be scared by whatever some local haunted house can dish out.”

“I suppose. . . .” I uncapped my water bottle and took a drink.

“You wanna go?”

I grinned. “Of course! Do you?”

“They can't scare me.” He winked. “But I'll go with you so you'll have someone to hold on to.”

I batted my eyelashes at him. “My big strong hero!”